First Born
by BlueRaven 666
Summary: AU. Prequel to "The Imp of the Phantomhive Butler". Upon discovering a young demon by the name of Michaelis struggling to give birth to his first imp, an elder demon takes it upon himself to assist him. But the first time is never easy. WARNINGS: MPreg, graphic descriptions of birth, some harsh language, OC, some OOCness. MPreg Male Pregnancy. Don't like, don't read. PLEASE REVIEW!


**First Born**

The brooding silence of the night in the wastelands of Hell was broken with a howl. This howl did not come from a lonely wolf or hound on the hunt, rather the pain that bitterly flavored it indicated that it had a more humanoid source, though the source from which the shriek originated was far from human; the elder demon wandering through the mists could tell that much. With such agony carrying in the pleading note, he suspected it to be the result of some form of torture. Perhaps an imp had strayed into a mature demon's territory... No, there wasn't enough terror there for it to be that. Perhaps it was mourning then, having lost a mate or an imp it had grown too attached to... No, the pain was less emotional, and more physical. An injury, then, perhaps? But what injury could cause a demon to let his cries carry for miles around, especially when there were plenty of others likely in earshot that would happily kill them simply for the sport of it?

The elder's curiosity got the better of him as he followed the wails and the screams through miles of rocky cliff sides and pitch black paths until he began passing the figures of other demons, likely following the noise just as he was, only driven by the urge to kill whatever was foolish enough to show such weakness in such an unforgiving realm. Many of the creatures glared at him with glowing red eyes and gave a snarl; a warning that only relayed one message: _This is my kill! Stay away!_

In return, he would send a message of his own: _I'd happily kill you for it._

A shift in the breeze sent an intoxicating smell into his flaring nostrils. Blood. As soon as the figures of demons tracking the source of the yowling would appear, they would vanish, tearing through the night seeing only the color red from the blood they smelled. The elder also broke into a sprint, flying past demons who were little more than imps in his eyes until he felt he was right on top of the source of the deafening screams and the blood. It took craning his neck until his chin aligned with his left shoulder to make out the figure sprawled over a jutting boulder.

It was an imp, maybe 100 to 120 years of age judging by his size. The elder demon paused as he let those numbers run past him again. 100... 120... 125, at the most... Oh, boy.

The elder demon crouched down as he watched the imp more carefully. It lay sprawled on its back, its spine arching at a pitiable angle as its black talons raked across the stone surface beneath him. It tried to dig its heels into the slate as if it were one of the cozier beds found in the dwellings of humans, with his only success being a slight crack appearing under one of his feet. The muscle tone on the imp indicated that it was a male, but the elder found this information to be only slightly meaningless as he watched its abdomen violently cave inwards in a spasm, drawing another pain-filled cry from the depths of the imp's mouth as blood trickled from between its slender legs.

The elder demon knew at once what was wrong. He had experienced the same tortures of the curse that ravaged the body of every living demon every 125 years that they survived, and this imp was enduring his first of the many that were likely to come; graduating from his status as an infertile imp to an ever-bearing demon.

Looking around, the elder demon could see the eyes of those he had passed whilst sprinting to the scene. They stared, not at the imp, but at him, not daring to move another inch forward. He had beaten them there, and it would be for him to decide whether this would be the slaughter that they had been hoping for or not. He took another look at the imp, who seemed to be too lost in his suffering to notice the imminent danger he faced. A stinging sensation dug into him. Plenty of demons had been perishing at the hands of angels and reapers recently to the point where their numbers were dwindling to just a few dozen, at most. The life of every demon still breathing was of top priority, at the moment, and this imp needed help, lest he die trying to bring forth one more to their numbers.

"Stand down!" he ordered, turning to the shapes and the eyes that glared at him, "Leave the imp to me. We cannot afford to lose him, nor the one he is trying to bring forth. Stand down and be gone!"

A few annoyed-sounding growls rattled the darkness surrounding them before fading into night. The red glow of eyes vanished until all the elder demon could make out was the outline of nearby boulders and the ledges of stony cliffs, though he suspected that there were likely a few still lingering about, eager to witness the birth of one of their kind.

As he turned back around, the elder demon was greeted with guttural snarl. The imp was struggling to his feet, trying to push the pain aside as he readied himself to fight. The elder suspected this. Very few demons asked for assistance during deliveries, even when they so clearly needed it. All he could do was stand his ground and hold the imp in place with a stare.

"What are you called?" he asked.

The imp sneered, "I'll give you no such power over me."

The elder took a step forward, earning himself another snarl, "You require my help, Imp."

"I _require_ no such thing!"

"Ah, a proud one, are we? Is your vanity greater than the pain that's devouring you right now?"

The imp growled and crouched down, readying himself for an attack, but his legs gave out from under him, and the uneven surface of the boulder sent him tumbling to the elder demon's feet. He yelped in pain as he coiled his arms around his cramping gut, and the elder dropped down beside him. Yes, this was definitely this imp's first time giving birth to spawn. His breaths were labored and uncontrolled, and he seemed to be adamant about trying to do this lying down, even though it was common knowledge that the position was probably the worst either sex could be in during the process.

"Breathe," the elder instructed, "You must breathe and try to relax, or things will only become more difficult."

The flash of claws filled his vision as four marks sliced across his cheek. The elder had to admit that despite how weak labor had made the imp, he was still quick, but no matter how much he fought, it didn't change the fact that he needed help. So he waited. The imp wasn't going anywhere with how far he seemed to have progressed, so he waited until the young one was gone with his pain to speak again.

"What are you called?" he repeated.

The imp trembled as desperation filled his expressions, "Mi-Michaelis..."

"Michaelis... you're one of Raum's offspring, are you not?"

"Yes... I-I am his youngest son... Now, what are _you_ called?"

"You do not recognize me?"

The imp regarded him with a blank stare, "Can't say that I do."

The elder demon nodded with a sigh as the imp arched his back as another contraction crashed over him, "I see. We can save that for later. Right now, breathe!"

Michaelis fought through the pain that slithered through his insides and drew in a breath and slowly let it out. He couldn't bare to look the elder in the eye as he did so, so he only kept it up until the spasm passed. He could feel something moving within him, inching its way from his gut towards his pelvis. It felt so wrong. Everything, from the pains, to the movement, to the breathing, all of it felt wrong. He could feel his body trying to fight it, trying to force the thing inside of him back up after each contraction until he felt like vomiting, and his pride was determined to make sure he didn't display such weakness in front of another demon.

"Alright, on your feet!"

The elder's order made him flinch. He expected him to stand up while doing this? Clearly, he was mad! No being could possibly bear to stand whilst giving birth. He stubbornly expressed his refusal with a shake of his head.

"Your child will not be able to be born with you laying down, Michaelis," the elder explained, "It'll simply stay trapped within your pelvis until you inevitably die from exhaustion. Without us, there is no balance to this world, now stand up!"

Michaelis growled at the order, but managed to make it to his knees before his abdomen caved in again. Another earth-shattering shriek ripped from his throat before he gritted his teeth and tried to find it in himself to breathe. All he could manage to do was fill his lungs with the realm's thick and heavy air in a gasp before letting it out in another cry of agony that threatened to turn into a sob. His skin was already slick with sweat, and all this effort he was putting in only seemed to make it pour from his face. He drew in another breath and managed to let it go in a sigh.

The elder slipped his arms underneath Michaelis' shoulders and hoisted him up until he was on his toes, then he slowly lowered him back down until he was squatting low. The imp groaned loudly as the thing inside him was forced downward by the added gravity, causing his hips to involuntarily sway in an attempt to ease the pain and keep things moving. He fell forward, catching and supporting himself on his hands as he suddenly felt something in him burst followed by a gush of fluid expelling itself from his anus. He yelled out and dropped his head down as he began panting harshly as the pain shifted from brutal to inexplicably unbearable, and that's when his body really started to fight it.

I was like his mind and body had become mortal enemies. As the contractions held his gut in a death grip, he was mentally telling himself to push, but his body refused. If he tried, the thing in him wouldn't budge, only increasing the pain and adding pressure that was screaming for him to bear down. They were opposing sides; his body telling him to push, but not wanting to, his mind telling him to breathe, but his breath hitching in his throat, the imp inside him needing to be born, but his body refusing to let it, leaving him to do the only thing his body and mind were content with letting him do: scream.

"Kill me!" Michaelis managed to cry out, "Forget the child, and kill me!"

The elder demon roughly snatched him by his long locks of raven hair and pulled him back, "Are you saying you can't do it?'

"Yes!"

"Are you saying you are weak?"

The words wounded him. Being a demon of pride, he hated being regarded as weak, but he could only manage a small breath before quietly answering, "Yes..."

The elder demon caressed one of Michaelis' hips with his hand.

"You have your father's pitifully narrow hips," he commented, "I doubt you'll be able to give birth naturally, at this rate."

"Then rip the bastard out of me!" the young demon snarled.

"Too late for that, I'm afraid. The imp is too far down, and we can't have you dying on us if we can help it."

Michaelis didn't even bother fighting it as the elder began moving him again, this time laying him back against the boulder where he was before and resting his hand against one side of his pelvis.

"I'm going to have to make room for you to deliver this imp," he stated, "Just to warn you, this is going to hurt quite a lot."

That was the only warning the elder gave before Michaelis felt the bone under his palm crack. The same was done to the bone parallel to it on the other side, and swiftly two areas were fractured in the back. Michaelis didn't even register the pain until he was being lowered back into a squat. He was beyond howling and screaming and crying at this point, and a slew of swears and curses poured from his tongue, instead. Along with the contractions and the pressure, he could feel the bones trying to heal, as any fractured bone would, but his offspring's descent towards his anus prevented that as his hips stretched to accommodate for the imp's size. He knew then that those bones would never fuse back together, making it easier to endure this dreaded curse again, if he ever got the chance.

The fractures seemed to change something in him though, as with the next contraction, his mind and body formed a single unit as his put his chin to his chest and pushed with all he had.

"That's it!" he heard the elder demon cheering him on, "Push, boy, push!"

A growl rumbled deep in Michaelis' throat; partially due to his annoyance towards the elder, and partially due to something that was starting to press against a particular bundle of nerves deep inside of him, increasing the pain ten-fold. He hardened a bit too quickly for his liking and swiftly coiled his fingers around his throbbing erection. He uttered a small whimper of desperation, both to push and for release as his orgasm built along side a contraction. He almost couldn't bring himself to keep stroking before he suddenly threw his head back and screamed in a confusing mixture of agonizing pain and overwhelming pleasure as he came. His screams died down into moans of relief as the pain quickly began melting away until it had dulled into a mild ache against his anus.

"Why didn't I think to do that hours ago?" Michaelis sighed, earning a chuckle from the elder supporting him.

"Yes, having an orgasm relieves the pain considerably," he confirmed, "But it's only a temporary fix, and your body will only allow you to do it once in this state. Your contractions will make the pain return with a vengeance unless you can manage a quick delivery."

Michaelis picked up on the hit and forced himself to set his euphoria aside as he prepared for his next contraction. He barely felt the spasm ripple through his core, but he _did_ feel the pressure of his imp making its presence known against its birthing exit. Curiosity got the better of him, and he reached his hand back towards his anus. His eyes widened as his fingers made contact with hair and a hard mass that moved forward as he gave a slight push. Even now, he could feel the demonic presence pulsing within the imp inside of him, indicating that his offspring was still alive.

With newfound determination leaned forward, supporting himself on his hands as he dropped his chin against his chest and pushed, grunting with effort. A growl rattled his vocal cords once more, which rose into a groan as the muscles around his anus stretched wider than he thought possible. Pain shot through them until it had grown into a white-hot burning sensation that forced him to let go of the breath.

"Breathe, Michaelis," the elder demon commanded, "The head is beginning to crown, and this is your first birth. Bring the head forth too fast will cause you to tear."

The young demon managed a chuckle, "You've already broken my pelvis in four places. What's a little tearing on top of it?"

"It couldn't be helped. The less damage done to your body during the birthing process, the better. Just breathe, and give small pushes. It'll come."

Michaelis moaned deep in his throat as another contraction wrapped around his core, which only seemed to move the imp inside of him down without the help of pushing. His breaths left him in soft groans as more of the head inched out of him. It was nearly halfway out when another contraction overlapped with his current one. An anguished cry escaped Michaelis as the head was roughly forced from his body. He felt the clenching muscles of his anus clamp down around the imp's neck, but only for a moment before the shoulders began making their presence known, dropping him back onto his knees. Screams ripped from his throat as the fading relief from his orgasm made all the pain return, overwhelming and consuming his back, core, and haunches.

"Push, Michaelis!" the elder demon ordered, "That's your quickest route to euphoria, now. Come on. Push!"

"I can't!" the younger demon cried out, his throat raw from his screams.

"Yes you can!"

"No, I fucking can't!"

"Yes, you fucking can!" the elder cupped the coming imp's head in his hands and gave an encouraging tug. The shoulders were still stuck fast behind the muscles of Michaelis' clenching anus. There would be no moving it unless the young demon resumed his pushing, "Relax your body, and push!"

Michaelis gave a pathetically weak strain, which only succeeded in expelling a small amount of bloody fluid from him. The aching and burning in his entrance threatened to resurface as the imp's shoulders pressed harder and harder against the muscles, putting images of him splitting in half into his mind. The idea made him even less willing to push as the fear of additional aching, burning, and pressure was put into him. Michaelis started to shake.

"Pull it out!" he shrieked as his body resumed its stubborn protest against the birth.

"Not until you deliver the shoulders," the elder responded, "Pulling now will definitely cause you to tear. You have to push them out. There's no other way!"

"I don't care! This is-" his shouts were cut off with another spasm that dropped him onto his elbows. By some miracle, he managed to fight againts his body's aggressive resistance as he drew in a breath and pushed with all his might. He screamed as the imp's shoulders finally forced their way through his seering orifice and the rest of its body quickly followed.

The relief that enveloped his body was immediate as Michaelis collapsed to the ground, a soft chant of swears and curses passing through this lips as he panted, trying to recover from the shock of the birth. The first thought that came to his mind was to sleep, but instinct pushed that to the back of his mind and he focused his attention to the creature that the elder was gently lowering to to ground, still tethered to him by its umbilical cord.

He imagined it being a lot bigger, considering the struggle of his ordeal, yet the imp's head had to be no bigger than an orange, and its body was scarcely larger than one of his hands. All together, it barely challenged the length of his forearm. Its tiny nostrils flared as a pair of large red eyes blinked open, and it lifted its head up off of the dirt. Tiny black talons set in its small hands turned over pebbles as it struggled to get its limbs underneath it, even attempting to use its flightless wings to try and push itself up.

"I believe a congratulations are in order, Michaelis," the elder demon spoke up as he watched the spectacle unfold, "on the birth of your first born; a son."

Demons that had been watching from the shadows came into view, vocalizing their approval as they applauded the efforts of the new parent. If Michaelis noticed their presence, he didn't acknowledge it as he worked to gnaw the imp free from its cord. The moment the fleshy rope was severed, he began dragging his tongue over the newborn, cleaning the blood and fluids from its pale skin. The imp mewled in protest as his parent's superior strength pushed him about until he managed to get away from him and scampered off into the darkness.

Part of Michaelis urged him to chase after the imp, feeling the need to protect his young that had fled him straight from the womb. The other part of him kept him where he was as he laid back down on his back and let out a few small whimpers as his body worked to rid himself of the afterbirth. The scent that rolled off of fleshy organ as it hit the ground ignited his hunger, and he didn't even hesitate as he pulled it into his mouth and tilted his head back, swallowing it whole in the same manner as he would a soul. The taste was strange to him; sweet with blood and slightly sour, as any organ belonging to an immortal would, but at the same time not entirely unpleasant. He could feel his strength returning already, aiding his body as it tried to heal from the birth.

"I'm afraid they're all that way," elder demon piped up, "A strong, healthy imp will be able to fend for itself as soon as it's born. It's those that linger you need to worry about. You did well for your first time."

The compliment sent a cringe of annoyance through Michaelis. He'd have to endure the whole ordeal again in another 125 years; a time that made him feel no better than if it were to happen again an hour from now.

"How many times will I have to endure this dreaded curse?" he asked, resting an arm over his sweat-slicked forehead.

"Well, I have heard rumors that the curse ends after one hundred births, but as I myself have bore hundreds of imps in my lifetime, I'd say it's just a myth. From what I've witnessed the only end to the curse is death, as at some point or another the curse weakens the body to the point where it is unable to deliver, and the parent dies from exhaustion."

"Great. Hours of agony and suffering just to die, and our kind will have nothing to gain from it."

"Not to worry. Just keep yourself well fed and strong, and you won't have to fear anything during the curse."

Not the most pleasant of thoughts. Each time he did this would be a question whether he would live another 125 years, or if his all of his body's efforts would fail him and he'd be left to die weary and in agony. No doubt there would be times where he'd bear more than one imp at a time, and he assumed if he were to take on a different form, either in a contract or just running amuck in the human realm, the imp would change forms to accommodate that form. But they were all things he was going to have to make peace with, whether he wanted to or not.

"If you no longer require any further assistance, I shall take my leave," the elder demon said as he stood up, dusting the dirt from his form, "You did well today."

"Wait!" Michaelis called out, pushing himself to his feet, "You still have yet to answer my question!"

"And what would that be?"

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Michaelis straightened himself, "What are you called? I wish to thank you properly."

"You truly do not recognize me?"

Michaelis tried to focus on the elder's form, squinting past the shadows of the night to make out what he could. A great pair of horns took up the majority of his head like a helmet. Pointed ears flicked and rotated like those of a cat. He had a stockier build and claws that would make even the largest bear cower in fear. A serpent-like tail whipped with impatience and was tipped with a shock of dark hair. The thing that gave it all away, though, was one that was commonly overlooked. A contract symbol detailing a goat's head atop a pentagram was etched into the elder's left hand, detailed in red lines with a black aura surrounding it; a symbol he'd been taught to respect and fear when he'd once found himself being tortured for something he no longer remembered. A bout of imp-like naiveté, no doubt.

His eyes widened at the realization.

The elder demon let out an impatient huff as he turned on his heel and began walking away, "I suppose we'll have to rectify that once you've gained back your strength. Can't have my own subjects forgetting who I am, can I?"

Michaelis tried to say something, only to lower himself in defeat. Memories of pain and torture flashed through his mind as he silently cursed at himself. If he'd known the devil to show an ounce of generosity, he would have held his tongue earlier.


End file.
